Stalked
by Bokeh
Summary: Following the Battle of Fornost, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Lindir are separated from their company and are forced to take refuge at an inn in the Kingdom of Arthedain during a rainstorm. Their situation goes from bad to worse when the innkeeper's three daughters fall in love with them and the Elven Lords find they have no way out when the daughters get...clingy.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own LOTR or the Elves in this story, they all belong to Mr. Tolkien.

This story is pure silliness involving three of my favorite Elves that I came up with on a whim. I will try to update as much as I can, but please understand I am a poor college student with more projects than free time. Also, reviews are much appreciated! : )

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><p>T.A. 1975<p>

For many days, rain had fallen over the small town of Aglarin in the kingdom of Arthedain. Wayward travelers and soldiers returning home following the Battle of Fornost had to take refuge in the town's inn as the lowlands flooded, making it near impossible to journey onward.

It was not a horrid discomfort though, the inn itself was spacious, with three stories and plenty of fireplaces to ward off the coming winter chill. The place itself was clean; the beds were comfortable and smelled slightly of lavender. There was never a time when the place did not smell of roasting meat, freshly baked bread or apple pastries; in a sense, it had every comfort one could ask for.

It was on a particularly cold evening where the rain was sometimes flaked with snow that three tall, cloaked travelers with hoods obscuring their faces and drenched from the downpour wandered into the inn. The main fireplace was alight and those gathered in the dining area were clanking their mugs and drumming their hands and feet, keeping time with the lively music played by the innkeeper's three daughters.

It was quite crowded, and many of the men inside were easily recognizable as former soldiers as they wore brigandines, war tunics and vambraces emblazoned with Númenorean crests. The three that just came through the door arrived like many of the others had with swords on their waists, saddlebags over their shoulders and light reflecting off plates of armor. However, if one were to have taken a closer look they would have seen that the armor the three wore were not the solid steel plates favored by men, but rather of interlocking lames with faint patterns of leaves and stars etched into them.

The foremost figure —the smallest of the three— stepped forward as the portly innkeeper did and inquired about the availability of a room in a voice that was altogether otherworldly. "I've got one left that will suit you just fine," the innkeeper replied and went to fetch the appropriate room key from behind the counter that also served as the inn's bar. "Would you like some food and hot water sent up to you?"

"Yes!" the tallest figure in a dark green-blue traveling cloak answered enthusiastically.

The innkeeper smiled kindly and motioned for one of his three daughters. Obviously knowing what her father wanted, she quickly disappeared into the kitchens. The innkeeper then led them to a wide staircase across the length of the room from the bar and to the second floor.

"Right here you are sirs," he said as he unlocked the door, which was the third one down the narrow corridor and opened it for them. "I do hope it is to your liking."

The tallest went in first, closely followed one that had spoken to him earlier. The third, in a heavy cloak of blue-black, hung back for several moments before he too went into the room, only to linger close by the door.

The room itself was rather quaint with scrubbed wooden floors, walls and ceiling. There were homemade quilts of different patterns and colors on the four narrow beds and a small watercolor of a flowering field hung over the tiny, unlit fireplace. A small desk sat before the only window to the room, which the tallest figure now looked out.

"The room is...sufficient," the one in the blue-black answered the innkeeper tartly.

"More than sufficient," the smallest said quickly after dropping the saddlebags he carried onto the floor by one of the beds. "We shall be most comfortable here."

The innkeeper bobbed his head in gratitude. "If you all need anything there's a bell pull by the fireplace there, or just ask one of my daughters or me."

He shut the door quietly, leaving the three in the room. Once they were certain the innkeeper was out of earshot, the smallest figure hissed in the elven tongue.

"The room is sufficient?" he questioned his darkly robed companion. "Honestly Erestor, it was you whom was complaining about being out in the rain; this ought to be more than '_sufficient_' even for you."

"Being stuck out in the freezing rain was the least of my complaints if you can recall correctly Lindir." Erestor threw back his damp hood revealing a pale face with broad cheekbones and grey eyes that were nearly black.

"I remember you yelling about a lot of things really," the tallest had now pulled off his cloak and laid it on the chair tucked beneath the desk with his bag, revealing his sodden, golden glory. "It was quite hard to make out just bothered you really. Yet we are now out of the rain, able to rest comfortably and enjoy a nice meal, honestly what is left to complain about?"

Erestor harrumphed, "If you think this will make up for everything that has happened you are sorely mistaken."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Glorfindel dismissed with a wave of his gloved hand.

"Wasn't that bad? _Wasn't_ _that bad_!" Erestor nearly shouted, taking several quick strides towards the golden elf with his hand tightly gripping the sword hilt at his side. "It was not bad that we were separated from our army and nearly drowned in the lowlands? I suppose it was a good thing when we went over forty miles in the wrong direction because you saw fit to take directions from _a squirrel_."

Glorfindel had put his hands up in a defensive manner, hoping to ward off the angry advisor as he advanced towards him with murder in his eyes. "I admit I might have misunderstood what he said, my squirrel dialect is a little rusty."

This only propelled Erestor into another rant about the idiocy of Vanya elves and squirrels, one that was quite similar to those Lindir had listened to since becoming separated from the rest of the Imladris army. Unlike those tongue-lashings the advisor dealt the Balrog Slayer in Imladris, there was no window to shut or music to play which could drown the shouts. Luckily, Lindir had quickly learned to turn a deaf ear, and turned his attention away from the other two occupants.

Despite Erestor's voice gaining pitch, Lindir hummed a tune and went about pulling necessities from his saddlebag. He placed a fine comb on the small table beside two of the beds and laid out a set of spare clothes. Lindir then pulled off his cloak, took off his armor and changed into the dry clothes.

Erestor had yet to cease, and there were a few times Glorfindel tried to stammer out a response. For a moment, Lindir found it difficult to believe the elf that was bending backwards over the desk in a feeble attempt to distance himself from Erestor was the same elf that had taken on a Balrog. Moreover, this same elf had chased the dreaded Witch King of Angmar out of Arthedain only days earlier.

Ilúvatar help them if Erestor ever decided to join the thrall left by Sauron.

A feint knock at the door finally silenced Erestor, and the advisor put on a look that told the other two, in no uncertain terms, _'I'm not answering it'_. Glorfindel —who appeared positively relieved by this distraction— took the opportunity to slip around the dark elf and throw open the door.

It was difficult for any of them to judge the age of humans, for they aged far more rapidly than they did, but the girl at the door appeared to have just now reached her majority. Her face was clean and unblemished, and stray locks of chestnut colored hair peeked from beneath a ruffled cap. She first appeared timid, for she surely heard all the shouting, but now her face held a look of amazement as she gazed upon the elves in the room.

The one whom had opened the door held her attention the longest. Despite his hair being damp, the long strands appeared to have been spun from gold. Even in her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined a face more handsome, nor could she tear her eyes away from his, which were colored an unearthly blue. The other two had hair that seemed darker than black with grey eyes and pale faces. Though they were both beautiful beyond reasoning, they did not match the splendor of their companion in her mind.

"Ah!" The golden elf reached forward, taking the pitcher of steaming water and clean towels from the girl who appeared to have forgotten the reason she was there. "Many thanks to you, lady."

Even his voice was majestic! He spoke to her in words she understood, but his accent was strange. It did not matter though; it was music to her ears. The girl felt her cheeks turn red as she fought to find her own voice.

"You're welcome," she barely managed to squeak. "Your food will be brought momentarily."

Glorfindel raised a brow as the girl remained in the doorway staring at him. When he was certain there was no one close by bringing their food he began to fidget. Though he, like his companions, had grown used to the stares their kind received from the race of Men, this one was slightly disturbing. This man-woman was looking at him as if she wished to devour him whole.

Not knowing what else to do, Glorfindel took a step back and slowly closed the door in the girl's face.

Lindir sniggered slightly as Glorfindel leaned against the door and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. Erestor himself seemed to find the situation amusing as his scowling face relaxed into his usual austere countenance.

However, they stood still and did not speak for several long minutes; the girl —they sensed— remained outside their door. Finally, her footsteps drifted slowly down the corridor and they relaxed.

"Strange little thing," Lindir commented lowly as he bent to light the kindling gathered in the fireplace.

"They're all strange," Erestor harrumphed as he dropped his bags onto a bed and stripped off his cloak. "As soon as the way is clear I suggest we leave."

"As you wish, my Lord." Glorfindel gave a mocking bow, with one hand extended and the other over his chest while still holding the pitcher and towels. "I would not dare keep you in such 'sufficient' surroundings any longer than necessary."

"I'm serious Glorfindel!" Erestor retaliated by throwing his damp cloak at the Vanya. "I do not want to return to Imladris and face the fury of Lord Elrond's eyebrows as we try to explain to him why we are not with our company."

The other two blanched at the thought of returning home with Elrond standing on the front step with hands on hips and tapping his foot; all the while giving them the infamous glare that would have struck fear into the heart of Sauron himself. The three of them had important duties to perform which kept the Last Homely House functioning properly; Lord Elrond did not like taking all of those responsibilities onto himself, nor did he like distributing them to lesser elves. The longer they were away the more likely things were to go awry, which meant more work once they got back.

Erestor was already imagining the paperwork piling on his desk while Glorfindel dreaded the chaos Elladan and Elrohir would evoke as they tried to lead the Imladris guard in his stead. Lindir may have had it easier than his companions, but he was horrified of what kind of experience all their guests would have without him being there. No one back in Imladris had any taste; they'd probably be singing Dwarvish songs in the Hall of Fire and serving that awful Woodland wine at dinner for all he knew!

"It is agreed then, as soon as the path through the lowlands is passable, we leave this place at once." For once Lindir and Erestor were in complete agreement with Glorfindel. The sooner they got out of there the better.

Unfortunately, they would soon have far more reasons to flee Arthedain than just for the workload piling up in Imladris.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Sorry for any errors! Hope you all enjoy! : )

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><p>Elves!<p>

Maeve raced down the stairs, still scarcely believing what she had just seen. Elves had never stayed at the inn before, at least from what she could remember. She had often heard stories about them, but never had she imagined just how wondrous they were!

She dropped onto the bottom floor and made her way through the maze of soldiers and travelers, ignoring the calls for another song and more ale. As she pushed open the door to the kitchens, she nearly collided with her sister Ethne, who carried a tray laden with stew and fresh bread.

"Careful Maeve!" Ethne cried as she narrowly avoided dropping her tray.

"Where are you going with that?" Maeve questioned directly, oblivious to the thunderous glare her elder sister gave her.

"Upstairs," she answered smartly. "The three who just came in wanted food and—hey!"

Maeve snatched the tray from her sister's hands and maneuvered around her before setting it on a counter. This concoction simply would not do for her Elven Prince! For a prince he must be! Maeve thought to herself as she removed the stew and began rummaging around the kitchen speckled with the few staff they had.

She pulled a lamb's leg from the spit over the fire and set it on a serving plate before placing it on the tray. She then added some dried fruit, roasted vegetables, as well as some butter, and a variety of jams to go along with the bread. She bit her lip when she realized her assortment would not fit on a single serving tray; she would need some assistance.

"Fallon!" Maeve called to her youngest sister who just came through the door, her face turned away as she flirted with a soldier close behind her. "Fetch me a bottle of that blackberry wine, and quickly!"

"What has gotten into you Maeve?" Ethne demanded as her sister retrieved their finest cutlery and dining linens. "You had best be telling us!"

Fallon appeared beside Ethne with the requested bottle in her hands, a puzzled expression also on her face. All three of the sisters were quite pretty and slim, although they were not very tall. They each shared their late mother's hazel colored eyes, and while Ethne and Maeve had dark brown hair pinned atop their heads, Fallon's was an enviable golden-brown.

"If you help me carry this upstairs you shall see," Maeve challenged as she arranged the dishes on the trays more artfully, then smoothed the front of her linen pinafore. She then went to check her hair in one of the shiny brass pots hanging on the wall.

"It must be a Dúnedain Lord!" Fallon grabbed onto Ethne's sleeve out of excitement. "There are plenty around these parts! He must not be able to cross the lowlands!"

"Is it?!" Ethne's eyes widened as she imagined a tall, strong man, with jet-black hair, and handsome face. Her mind then conjured the same dream they all shared, in which said Lord would fall in love with her the instant he saw her, then proceed to whisk her far away from this tiny place and into a world of beauty and luxury.

"No, it is not a Dúnedain Lord who resides upstairs," Maeve turned back to them with an all-knowing grin on her face. "Follow me and you shall see something better than a Dúnedain!"

Both her sisters accepted the challenge readily; they straightened their hair and attire before they each took a tray loaded with food, wine, dishes, and cutlery, and followed their sister through the barroom and up the stairs.

Maeve stopped outside one of the oak doors, gave a giddy giggle, and knocked on the door.

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><p>Whilst they waited for their food, the elves of Imladris had changed, washed their faces, and went about making themselves comfortable or what-have-you. Lindir had sense to hang some rope, which he had in one of his bags, to easily dry their traveling cloaks and clothes. Of course, only Erestor found this sensible action frustrating.<p>

On occasion Erestor collided with a wet tunic or cloak as he paced along the narrow aisle, which ran along the center of the room between the footboards, with a leather-bound tome in his hands. The advisor was now dressed in a high-necked tunic of midnight blue that fell to his mid-calf with a full-length velvet robe over his shoulders. Erestor had never considered abandoning formal clothing when he set out for war; he would never stoop so low. Plain cotton and linen garments were for commoners, filthy sea-elves, and certain Balrog Slayers.

Glorfindel himself finished untangling his famous golden tresses and collapsed onto the bed that was too short for him. The elf didn't seem to mind as he propped his feet on the footboard. Erestor snarled his nose at Glorfindel's rumpled tunic and leggings, —suggesting he wadded his clothes up and shoved them in his bag when he packed, instead of folding them like any decent person would—but his attention was quickly taken by the elf's armor and gear that lay discarded on the floor.

Erestor's upper lip curled. They had not even been there an hour and already Glorfindel was transforming the room into the sty he lived in back in Imladris.

"Will you please pick those up?" the advisor's tone sounded more condescending than pleading as he pointed to the array of weapons. "I refuse to extract an arrow from your hide, again."

Glorfindel grinned.

"No, I am not referring to the time you came limping into the library with a shaft protruding from your posterior because you secretly gave Elladan and Elrohir real bows and arrows on their tenth begetting day." Erestor snapped as the other elf's smile faded and began to put two-and-two together. "I am referring to the time you lied to Elrond, —after you swore you had that disaster of a guardhouse cleaned— tripped over a sword rack, and landed on that mass of weapons."

The golden elf immediately shot up from the bed, gathered his belongings and unceremoniously dropped them on the spare bed. The pain of an arrow slamming into his inner thigh, close to his crotch, was still fresh in his mind despite it happening several hundred years ago. The memory of Erestor's less than delicate removal had not diminished either. The dark elf didn't like his desk turned into an operating table and relayed that quite clearly when he pulled it out.

In hindsight, he would have been better off going to Elrond and admitting his lie; the elf lord would probably have considered his predicament punishment enough. At least then he would have had the benefit of numbing agents and pain suppressants. Not to mention he was less likely to have been sore months afterwards, and would not have had all that paperwork dumped on him as repayment.

Live and learn.

"That's better," said Erestor curtly before he turned his attention back to his book.

A rap at the door caught their attention, and both Glorfindel and Lindir's ears perked up.

"That must be our food," Lindir said as he abandoned his task of straightening their clothing on the makeshift drying line and followed Glorfindel to the door.

Unfortunately, hungry elves are not coordinated elves. In his enthusiasm Lindir bumped into Glorfindel, which made the gold elf to stub his toe on a bedpost and strike Lindir in the face with his elbow. This caused the other elf's head to jerk back and lose his footing. Lindir grabbed onto Glorfindel's tunic to keep himself from tumbling onto the floor, but the elf was in no position to help as he was only able to stand on one foot. As Glorfindel fell he instinctively grabbed at something that would keep him upright, but to no avail. There was nothing but wet tunics and cloaks around them.

Erestor rubbed his temple as both elves fell to the floor in a flurry of limbs and elvish curses, snapping the rope and bringing their collective clothing down with them. The advisor then cast a quick glance towards the ceiling. What? What had he done? Surely no sin was too great that one would be stuck with the likes of these two.

He contemplated allowing Glorfindel and Lindir to untangle themselves from the clothing and each other so he would not have to answer the door. But another knock followed by a concerned voice made him think better of it. Erestor took no small amount of satisfaction as he walked over the struggling elves, stepping on Lindir's stomach and making Glorfindel's thick head strike the floor again, to throw open the door.

Dear Elbereth they multiplied.

Erestor felt his eye twitch as three sets of eyes widened and stared at him unabashed. One of the infernal things even _squealed_. He recognized one of them as the girl who brought the water to them earlier, but the other two were unfamiliar. It did not matter though. Glorfindel may have poked fun at him by telling him he took as much time and consideration into his appearance as any she-elf, but he, Erestor, Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond of Imladris was not someone to gawk at.

"You should not stare at someone with your mouths hanging open like a pack of ravenous wargs," he snapped, though this did not cause the three young girls to stop staring. His eye twitched again before he added: "It's quite discourteous."

With that he slammed the door and had every intention of leaving it at that. Lindir though, was the first to free himself and struggled to his feet.

The girls were quite shocked when the door shut on them abruptly, but then they heard three voices raised in argument, but they could not understand the words. The door was swung open and a friendlier looking elf appeared before them.

"I do apologize for my friend's rudeness," Lindir said as he rubbed his still tender nose. Erestor huffed somewhere behind him. "You bring us a feast! Allow me to take that from you lady, it should be a crime to make lovely maidens carry so large a burden!" He took the heaviest tray, which Ethne carried, and gave a charming smile.

Glorfindel sniggered and Erestor rolled his eyes at their companion's flattering words. The elf was a master of hospitality, and it was quite amusing to see that he never let this slip, even when it came to three young girls. Whether this was out of habit, genuine kindness, or just plain fun, neither Glorfindel or Erestor knew. Whatever the case, Glorfindel decided that it would be quite amusing to poke fun at his flowery, frivolous verbiage. He certainly deserved it after their tumble.

The Vanya rose from the floor and glided with all the majesty the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower could muster, careful to avoid the mess of clothing in the floor. He gave an over exaggerated bow and spoke in the distinct, overly honeyed tone the other elf used.

"Indeed ladies, we should be the ones waiting on you, for such loveliness is seldom seen even amongst the Eldar" he cast a sideways glace at Lindir who seemed to have caught onto what he was doing given his critical look. "Words cannot describe our appreciation for your efforts, we only hope our humble thanks are enough."

"Dear Ilúvatar, you are an imbecile," Erestor muttered in Sindarin as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Indeed, you bring us a feast fit for a High King of Elves! We are forever indebted," Glorfindel gave another bow and swore he heard Lindir's teeth grinding behind his thin smile.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all!" Maeve flushed and giggled right along with her sisters.

"None whatsoever!" Ethne added in delight as she fluttered her lashes at the kind, dark elf.

"We'd rather like it if you chose to trouble us though!" Fallon winked.

Lindir and Glorfindel glanced at one another and mutually agreed the game was over. These girls were slightly more annoying than those they had come across before, and they found their stares...unsettling. Glorfindel easily took the other two trays and gave a less flamboyant bow as Lindir thanked them one last time —without further compliment or embellished prose— and shut the door.

They turned and breathed a sigh whilst Erestor still glowered at the door with a brow arched high on his forehead. The girls didn't remain outside long and dashed away noisily —sounding similar to a herd of stampeding oliphaunts in Erestor's opinion— whilst giggling and shrieking.

"Well, that was fun," Glorfindel said to no one in particular as went to the desk to set the trays down.

"You made a larger fool of yourself than of him," said Erestor dryly, but the golden haired elf could have cared less now that he was about to eat. Lindir himself seemed to have not taken offense to Glorfindel's joke as he followed.

"We have not had a decent meal since we left Imladris and if they keep giving us this much food I will gladly make Glorfindel's performance appear insignificant," Lindir admitted as he set his own overflowing tray down, then had the most spectacular epiphany. "Flattery will get one just about anything from my experience. We are elves, the fairest of Ilúvatar's creations, why not take the advantage and see if we are able to eat like kings every night we are here?"

"Why can't you use your infinite wisdom and knowledge like that advisor?" Glorfindel questioned Erestor critically as he popped the cork out of the wine bottle, only to have it snatched away by Erestor before he could take a swig.

"Degrade and humiliate yourselves if you wish! I will have no part of it!" came his furious reply.

It did not matter if they had assistance from Erestor in this endeavor, Glorfindel and Lindir decided. It just meant more food for them. After all, there were truly no downsides to their plan.

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><p>Back in the kitchens, the sisters giggled and pranced about, completely enthralled by elves upstairs. Moreover, they were convinced that what the two nicer elves said about them was true. For how could such handsome elves say anything but the truth?<p>

"He said we were more beautiful than elf-maids!" Maeve squealed.

"This is it, Maeve! I can't believe it! These elves will take us away from here and we shall be married! Think of how grand it will be to have such handsome husbands and live amongst elves!" Ethne's eyes sparkled as she joined her sister in a dizzying twirl.

"Did you see the one who first opened the door? I swear he smiled at me!" Fallon's mind conjured the visage of the dark, austere elf. "He was so stoic and handsome!" This younger sister either forgot, ignored, or didn't listen to Erestor's harsh words.

Or, quite possibly, they were all completely delusional.

"When he took the tray from me his hand touched mine!"

"Did you see the look on his face? I know he wanted nothing more than to kiss me!"

"I'm sure he will ask me to marry him straightaway!"

The girls continued to giggle and squeal, already imagining their respective elves proposing marriage and taking them back to...wherever it was they came from.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for not updating in so long! School is finally out and I have free time again! Thank you all so very much for your lovely reviews so far, I'm glad you all are enjoying the story! Sorry if there are any writing errors...they like to slip past me.

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><p>The next day dawned wet and cold. The rain had turned into snow sometime during the night, and a thin layer covered the rooftops and unpaved streets. As morning slowly progressed into early afternoon, the rain returned and the snow became slush.<p>

The horrid weather forced many of the men at the inn to remain inside. During that time, they saw no better way to whittle away the day than by drinking, laughing, singing, and doing all the noisy things men do that annoy elves who were trying to sleep.

Many of the men did not know that elves were also in the inn, and even fewer knew that elves often rested during the day. Even though they needed less sleep than men, the elves occupying the inn —after a becoming lost in the rain, nearly drowning, gorging themselves, fixing the line to hang their clothes, and ranting about anything that came to mind— were quite tired and planned to sleep the day away.

Erestor gritted his teeth as the sounds of heavy footfalls echoed out in the corridor and another burst of boisterous laughter came from downstairs. He had stolen the pillow from the spare bed and held it tightly over his ears, trying to think of only pleasant things: like his library back in Imladris, leaving this inn and Glorfindel strangled by his own braids.

Said golden elf was snoring loudly, his eyes half closed in sleep. For a brief moment, Erestor wished he had the same sleep-like-a-rock-through-anything-including-the-rest-of-Arda-sinking-into-the-sea ability that Glorfindel possessed. Yet that wish was soon overtaken by a stronger desire to smother the elf with a pillow when he let loose a snore loud enough to catch the attention of those in the hallway and startle Lindir awake.

Perhaps the real reason Glorfindel was sent back to Arda was so the elves in Valinor could sleep.

Lindir had risen in his bed, looked at the Vanya disdainfully, then lay back down. As soon as his head hit the pillow there were several loud knocks at the door. Erestor huffed and shifted noisily in his bed, leaving the matter to Lindir. The other elf did not intend to get up either; he was exceedingly tired, and his limbs ached with exhaustion. He thought it was someone coming to inquire about the ungodly snoring and would eventually leave. However, the person at the door did not go away after several minutes; in fact, the knocks increased their frequency and finally there came a cheerful greeting.

It was one of those girls.

Erestor certainly had no plans to deal with the creatures, and it seemed that Lindir did not either, as he did not move from his bed. They both lay there, trying to ignore the girl, but for a great deal of time, she kept knocking and calling out greetings. They listened as her knocks became quicker and more frequent as her vocal pleasantries grew strained, then finally hysterical. The high-pitched noise stabbed their ears, forcing both elves to try to block the wretched noise the best way they could.

Glorfindel they could handle, but this was something else altogether. The wailing coming from the girl was a twisted device of Morgoth himself.

Erestor was the first to crack. He sat up, took his pillow and slammed it down on Lindir's head. As the assaulted elf bolted upright and turned to snap at the advisor, Erestor glared and pointed at the door that threatened to collapse due to the girl's hysteria.

"Make her go away!" he commanded with a low hiss.

Lindir groaned and slowly dragged himself from the bed. He did not particularly wish to deal out pleasantries when he was sleepy and not very hungry. The elf stumbled to the door, visibly apprehensive over what lay on the other side. Lindir shrank back as he hesitantly stretched out his hand, as if he were about to touch the nose of a sleeping balrog, and turned the handle.

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang, revealing not some craven with its mouth foaming in mania, but one of the flushed-faced girls. Her brown hair was braided and pinned in a complex style with a thick lock draped over her shoulder. Not only had her hair changed, but her attire had as well—whether it had also improved or not depended on one's point of view. Unlike linen garments similar to those she had on yesterday, her dress was made from richer fabric and deep red in color. However, Lindir did his best to avert his eyes; the dress was a bit large and did not cover very much of the girl's chest.

Ethne giggled and winked, mistaking Lindir's shock as surprise rather than revulsion. She had no idea how close the elf was to ripping off his shirt and covering her with it.

The young girl had been up before dawn, styling her hair and fighting over dresses with her sisters. She had wanted to look extra pretty today and felt her efforts were not in vain. So far, Ethne had gotten many compliments from the men downstairs, even a drunken marriage proposal, but what she truly wanted was some recognition from the elf before her. Like her sisters, she had waited, waited, waited, _and waited _for him to appear downstairs, or to ring for something. As the hours ticked by, she had become impatient, and while Fallon and Maeve were not looking, she dashed upstairs to check in on them, bringing something with her.

"It is early afternoon, my lord," she curtsied, causing the shoulder of her gown to slip precariously. "I thought you might like some tea and tarts."

Lindir was unable to respond as quickly as he would have liked; the elf was too caught up in his thoughts as to what would possess a young maiden to dress in such a way.

"Your thoughts for our wellbeing are greatly appreciated," Lindir said as he did his best to keep his eyes focused on the wall behind her, afraid of he would see something he did not want to see if they drifted any lower. "Unfortunately my companions and I are still quite exhausted from our journey and wish to rest a while longer."

"But you've been asleep all day!" Ethne complained, nearly stomping her foot. "Wouldn't you rather take a tour of the town? I could show you a lovely meadow where we could watch the sun set!"

"It is raining though," the elf stated. Why would she suggest such a thing? Despite all the noise the men —and Glorfindel— were making, one could easily hear the torrents of rain striking the roof overhead.

This detail did not seem to sway Ethne, in fact, it seemed like she had not heard him at all.

"I wish you could see it in the spring though, everywhere you look there are flowers, but right now it's—"

"Completely underwater," Erestor interrupted as he appeared behind Lindir with a cross look on his face. This expression quickly changed to one of abhorrence once he beheld her attire. "Young lady you are disturbing us, if we require something we shall call for it," he said taking notice of the tray in her hands.

Erestor's blunt tone was not overly harsh, but Ethne did not seem to think his words were akin to an exhausted elf who merely wanted to sleep. Her eyes began to well with tears and her lower lip began to tremble.

"I...I...just thought..." she whimpered pitifully, unable to complete her sentence.

Lindir shot Erestor a pointed look when she choked back a sob. There were better ways to inform the girl she was keeping them from betting some much needed sleep, but Erestor obviously did not care. The taller elf gave a sigh as his companion laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Please pay no mind to Erestor's thoughtless words; he is what you call a...grouch." The elf's gentle smile seemed to keep Ethne from breaking into hysterics as Erestor grumbled lowly.

Lindir withdrew his hand far too quickly for Ethne and relieved her of her tray. To her dismay, the handsome elf was jerked back into the room by Erestor, who then slammed the door and loudly bolted it. Despite this, she remained standing in the corridor, her heart fluttering inside her chest. This elf was truly her dream come true! He was both handsome and kind, just like the princes in those romance stories she and her sisters adored.

Then she remembered something crucial, something that would surely allow her to see him again soon in _the_ perfect circumstance:

"You must come downstairs tonight!" she called as pressed her hands against the door. "We shall be having music and singing and _dancing_ again!"

"We shall come!" Lindir replied, despite Erestor's ominous warnings to remain silent.

The elf's face twisted with vexation as the girl raced down the hall with a squeal of delight. Erestor hoped she would trip on that gaudy dress of hers and break her neck down the stairs and that Lindir would choke on the pastry he currently sampled.

"Do not look at me so Erestor!" Lindir said after he swallowed his morsel. "I did 'make her go away' as you requested. Besides, what is wrong with a little socialization and music?"

The advisor said nothing, but continued to stare threateningly with the same intensity as a black thundercloud. This would not soon be forgiven, but Lindir doubted a single evening amongst the men downstairs would leave lasting scars.

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><p>I don't remember right off the bat if Tolkien ever specifically mentioned elves' sleep patterns, but I always figured that since the elves awoke by the light of the stars they prefer to be awake at night and would generally rest during the daylight hours if they needed.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4 (Part 1)

A/N: From what I can see from all the wonderful —and literally best— reviews one could ask for, Erestor is quite the popular elf. So, here's hoping you all enjoy this chapter part immensely cause it features our favorite gloomy advisor! Happy reading!

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><p>Erestor could scarcely believe it: those two imbeciles were actually going to go downstairs and mingle with the rabble.<p>

He could hear burly choruses and the stomping of feet below them, and wondered why Glorfindel and Lindir felt they needed to clothe themselves in the best attire they had brought with them. The commotion was unmistakably common and crude, hardly worth getting dressed up for.

Nonetheless, Glorfindel arrayed himself in a —strangely— spotless ivory tunic that fell to his knee with red leggings and a delicately wrought gold belt around his waist. Lindir had brought one set of proper clothing, and was now dressed in a robe and long tunic of deep bronze.

The advisor couldn't help but roll his eyes when the two checked their braids in the tiny, sole mirror in the room. "One would think you were fastidious maidens before their first ball," he mocked.

Glorfindel and Lindir ceased their preening and turned to him. Lindir shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but the other elf merely shrugged and went to the desk where the tea tray had been placed hours ago.

"Why do you not join us?" Glorfindel questioned as he popped a cold tart in his mouth. "It sounds like they're having a lot of fun!"

Erestor glowered in response, thinking he would much rather throw himself into the fires of Mount Doom. His golden companion had been positively enthralled about the festivities once Lindir informed him. Then again, Glorfindel was never one to miss a party; even if one was thrown by orcs one would probably find a gold elf dancing amidst the discordant banging made by provisional instruments.

"Yes Erestor please join us," Lindir politely began, "surely you do not wish to remain alone in these sufficient surroundings."

Erestor did not rise to the provocation, he merely sat in silence and wondered if having the title of kinslayer was such a terrible things to possess. None of the sons of Fëanor seemed to mind, and surely the Valar would see that he was actually doing a great service to those in Arda. Erestor the Kinslayer did have a nice ring to it.

After several moments of intimidating silence, Glorfindel motioned to Lindir and they began to leave. Erestor, despite this supposed victory, continued to sit on his bed with his arms tightly folded across his chest, waiting for the door to shut. He was inwardly pleased and envisioned an enjoyable, solitary evening with the two books he had brought with him; but his companions had other ideas.

Erestor's first mistake was keeping his back to them; once they saw their chance, the two elves swiftly seized him and violently jerked him off the bed. This impulsive prank had no thought behind it other than to drag Erestor into the hallway and lock the door so he would have no choice but to join them. However, neither Glorfindel nor Lindir could have anticipated how viciously their friend would thrash and kick, and they briefly wondered where the prudish Erestor had learned the foul, derogatory curses that spewed from his mouth.

The three elves tumbled into the hallway, an indistinct mass of flailing limbs and swirling robes. Glorfindel and Lindir continued to wrestle with Erestor; the gold elf striking his head against the opposing wall and Lindir receiving an elbow to the chin.

The smallest elf was kicked against the doorframe after Erestor momentarily broke free from their grasp and struggled to his feet. Unfortunately, the advisor was instantly tackled and crashed to the hard flooring with a heavy balrog slayer holding him down. Erestor rolled, but Glorfindel's strong arms held him tight, giving Lindir all the time he needed to lock the door and pocket the key.

Glorfindel then released him, a mistake on his part because once Erestor got to his feet he swiftly kicked him in side. Lindir had enough foresight to know Erestor would seek retribution against him and descended the stairwell once he locked their door. By the time the advisor turned his second companion had altogether vanished from view.

So Lindir had escaped. For now.

"I suppose you think you're very clever," Erestor said calmly, as though the last few aggressive moments had not transpired.

It took a little time for Glorfindel to stand, he had not taken any considerable damage during their scuffle, but Erestor's kick had knocked the wind from him. By the time the Vanya had pulled himself up off the floor his friend's clothing and hair were smooth and impeccable. Despite his calm countenance, Glorfindel could tell by the slight twitch in Erestor's eye that the advisor was not happy with what had transpired.

The phrase commonly used by men seemed to accurately describe his attitude: he was royally pissed off. Or so he thought it went.

"Trust me, you'll have a much better time with us downstairs than you will in our sufficient room by yourself," Glorfindel grinned as he laid a hand on Erestor's shoulder and ushered him towards the stairs.

"Somehow I very much doubt that, I distinctly recall many situations similar to the one we are in now where you indulge in too much of that man drink—"

"You don't have to worry about that," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, slightly wincing as the motion irritated a newly injured muscle. "I know how you are and I promise I will neither drink too much or embarrass you in any way."

Glorfindel's promise lasted until they reached the bottom of the stairwell.

All too soon Erestor found himself sitting in a lone corner watching Glorfindel dance upon a tabletop with an ale in hand, singing some vulgar, bardic tune with a chorus of men accompanying him. He rolled his eyes when an inadvertent kick by the balrog slayer sent a flagon flying across the room to crash against a wall. The action must have been found appealing in some way, as Erestor saw several more sail through the air.

Lindir however, was not making a fool of himself. Always the gracious one, he spoke kindly to those around him, answering questions and telling lighthearted stories. Erestor could not help but observe that Lindir kept a lengthy distance between the two of them. He never ventured close to Erestor's table; in fact, he preferred to stay on the opposing side of the room.

It wasn't just Lindir who kept his distance, no one came close to him. Erestor —in his own way— was quite happy with that; he did not want to be bombarded with ignorant questions about elves, nor did he want to dance or sing like his idiotic companion.

He was all too aware that his dark, austere appearance made him an unapproachable figure. Lord Elrond himself had personally expressed his concerns to him at times, saying that representatives from other realms were well aware of his wisdom and wished to seek his advice on matters, but found him too intimidating. Each and every time these conversations took place Erestor would afterwards find ways to make his appearance even more foreboding.

He supposed he was looking exceptionally intimidating that evening, but given he was still in a foul mood, detested his surroundings, and kept shooting anyone who came too close a spiteful look, it was understandable. Which was why Erestor was most perplexed when someone plopped down in the seat next to his.

He looked to see who would have such audacity, only mildly surprised to see one of the annoying girls in a fitted pink dress beside him. Erestor harrumphed and shifted away from her in his seat, thinking if he ignored her, she would eventually leave.

"What are you doing over here by yourself?" she questioned with a high-pitched girlish voice.

Erestor could think of no better answer: "I wish to be alone."

It was the perfect response, one which would clearly inform this nuisance he did not want her —or anyone's— company. Unfortunately, the girl either ignored his answer or was too dense to comprehend it. She scooted her seat closer to his and leaned forward, as she wanted a better view of his face.

"Why?" Her tone of voice reminded him of young Elladan and Elrohir, always pulling at his robes, never giving him a moment's peace, and questioning his responses to questions they asked. Unfortunately for the young one currently at his side, he was well equipped when it came to sending little ones running to their parents in tears after they became too bothersome.

The thunderous glare that struck fear into the heart of every elfling slipped easily into place, though it had not been used in centuries. He sent its full force against the girl beside him, fully expecting her to fall from her seat and scurry away, never to come near him again.

Instead, she merely blinked and...giggled?

Wait..._what_?

In some strange twist, it was Erestor who slipped from his seat, sending the chair careening, nearly flipping the table, and landing with an audible thump on the wood flooring.

_ What?_

After taking a few moments to regain some orientation, Erestor sat up, ignoring his throbbing elbow that had taken the brunt of the fall. The creature—for Erestor was certain that it was no ordinary mortal being that was before him— leaned forward, with a bemused look upon her face.

"What—what are you?" the advisor stammered, wondering if perhaps this was some twisted Maia spirit of Morgoth that had taken human form.

"I'm Fallon," she answered. "Did you fall because you were so astonished by my apparent beauty?"

A black eyebrow arched high in reply. Evidently she was quite serious, flipping her golden-brown hair while waiting intently for an answer. Why on Arda would she think such a thing? Granted, she was not terribly hideous to look upon, but he had to wonder if she was in someway delusional.

Realizing this was no creature of shadow Erestor stood, hoping neither Glorfindel or Lindir saw what had happened. He stole a quick glance, seeing to his bewilderment, that he wasn't alone in his situation. Lindir had been ensnared by the scantily clad girl from earlier and pulled onto the dance floor. Erestor could deduce from the look on Lindir's face that he did not want to dance, but was far too polite to refuse.

Glorfindel on the other hand, who now thankfully ceased his prance upon tabletops, was far more gallant and led the third girl in a frolic across the length of the floor. Yet every time the elven lord tried to break away and continue his dance solo, she would grab onto him and pull him back.

It was then Erestor realized what was going on: these three girls were _enamored_ with them.

The advisor fought back a groan of frustration. It wasn't uncommon at all for one of the Edain to fall sway to the beauty of the Eldar, and it usually never mounted to anything beyond superficial infatuation. It could be immensely frustrating for the elves themselves, as they often had to rebuke the unwanted advances made by this younger race. In most cases that meant they beat them back with whatever weapon they had. What happened to the elf-maid Mithrellas was a lesson learned by all.

Well, no matter, Erestor was certain he could remedy this without violence.

"You, Fallon," he turned to her, a bit taken aback when he saw she was standing right next to him.

"Yes?" she fluttered her lashes and leaned in closer to him, which caused Erestor to take step back.

"I am under the impression that you have taken a liking to me, and if this is true I must inform you that your feelings are not reciprocated." He wasn't content with this simple statement and felt the need to elaborate further. "Any feelings between the Edain and Eldar are quite unnatural occurrences. Though I am certain you believe the feelings you have are that of true love, what you are most likely experiencing is an overwhelming attraction to our appearance. It is quite common I assure you, but you should look to your own kind for a suitable mate."

There, that should take care of it.

"Oh I see, you're one of those standoffish types that's all 'get away from me' but really, deep down, you feel the same as I!" Fallon giggled as she latched onto his arm. "It's alright, I know you love me, you don't have to say it."

Wait..._what_?

"Have you taken leave of your senses?!" Erestor tried to pull his arm away from her. "Did you not listen to a word that I said? Release me at once you vile beast!" He placed his foot on her side and tried to push her off.

"What's going on over here?" The advisor ceased his actions as a group of Dúnedain had taken notice of what was going on. They were unkempt, young, and some of them had bandaged war wounds, but most importantly, they visibly disapproved of Erestor's treatment of the young girl.

The elf straightened and regained a fair amount of ominous superiority despite the girl having reattached herself to his side. However, these men seemed unwilling to be intimidated after what they had witnessed. Well, Erestor felt he would just have to explain himself, perhaps he could even acquire their help in prying Fallon off his arm.

"It seems that this young...lady," Erestor used the term 'lady' very loosely, "believes she and I are in love."

These soldiers reacted in a way which disheartened the elf. They looked to each other, relaxed, grinned, and a few even snickered. He rightfully assumed he could not count on them to help him in this hour of great need.

He would personally see to it that from now on these men never received assistance from Imladris again. Missives and messengers alike were easily misplaced.

"She's a young one," the man at the forefront of the group said, "it's just a harmless fancy, there's no need to get so hateful with her."

"Indeed," Erestor felt his eye twitch as he felt his irritation rising once again. Then, being the intelligent elf that easily solved difficult problems that he was, Erestor knew how he would remedy his dilemma. In fact, he had used it countless times to permanently rid Imladris of pesky visitors.

"Aren't we going to dance?" Fallon questioned dreamily, as she and the Númenorean warriors looked to him for an answer.

"We shall dance, but first I would like to visit the kitchens for a moment, I am in need of a cup of tea."

Neither Fallon nor the men that confronted him sensed anything was amiss as the dark elf led the girl towards the kitchens with a fiendish smile on his face.

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><p>Mithrellas was an elven maid who married Imrazôr the Númenorean, the first Lord of Dol Amroth in the Unfinished Tales. She ended up running off one night and was never seen by her husband again, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the story. It's easily deducible that she didn't like being married to the guy and may have been forced into the marriage, though the texts don't mention anything of the sort.<p> 


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